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Moriah Jean Feb 2011
Splash out a moist printing impression,

Chiseling an angry replica god of clay.

Electric rhythm masticates waste in two.

Captured decay inspired death of poison desire.

Feel morass young essence that makes a masterpiece.

Dazzling black illusions above nefarious comedy,

Evoke dead wood to open an abstract symbol.

Those surreal senses draw a brazen icon to life.
© December 2010 Moriah Jean

Written with word magnets and the help of a few other students in my Creative Writing class.
Take from it what you will.
Moriah Jean Feb 2011
I get this feeling about you --
One that stretches beyond explination.
Almost like the feeling of home,
but different.
Like being around you would make things okay
that aren't okay.

You make me feel safe...
Like the breeze on a summer day,
Comfortable and warm.
I want to lounge around with you
                                                             ­     forever.
© February 1st, 2011 Moriah Jean

For Bryant.
And also, the first stanza is credited to him completely. His words with my poetic flair. =)
We make quite the team.
Moriah Jean Jan 2011
Love is a role;
Life is a game.

Or is it the other way around?

All I know is that when I'm with you,
I can't get into character and,
I forget all my lines.
And suddenly,
I forfeit.

But I still win awards.
You're a shiny little statue with my name on it.

And you make me *shine.
© January 31st, 2011 Moriah Jean

For Bryant.
(What have I gotten myself into this time?)
Moriah Jean Jan 2011
I want the best of you but,
I want your worst.

I'll take all of your flaws and,
tie them into chains and call them beautiful.
I'll wear them in my hair and around my neck,
Until they begin to wilt, and then
I'll press them between the pages
of my favorite books.
So I'll always remember them fondly.

I'll take your imperfections and,
paint them into pictures for my walls.
I'll decorate the places that I dwell
with each and every one, and call it home.
Until the colors fade, and then
I'll press them into photo albums
that we can show our friends,
While we tell them all of our stories.

I want all of your strengths but,
I want your weaknesses too.
Because that is just how much I love you.
© January 26th, 2011 Moriah Jean

For the romantics and lovers, hopeless and jaded or not.
Moriah Jean Jan 2011
i.
Heaven
is for people with beautiful imaginations;
Hell
is for the ones with twisted minds.

Life is for those who have both,
and can't tell the difference.

ii.
Living
is for people with their hearts on their sleeves;
Dying
is for the ones who've been hurt.

Love is for those who have both,
and can't tell the difference.
© January 26th, 2011 Moriah Jean

Life is for the living.
Moriah Jean Jan 2011
There's a flood in my front yard.
The sky lets out  a sigh
as the clouds grumble.
Lightning winks to me that everything will be okay.

The windows are sealed up tight but,
My house still might become a boat.
And I'll sail it out to the ocean and
Over the horizon, and if I'm lucky
We'll fall right off the edge of the earth.

If there are waterfalls in space,
I'd like to ride one down.
And then I'll kiss the stars on my way out.

I'll write you a letter from the edge of everything,
So you can know exactly what you're missing and,
wish you'd come along.
© January 25th, 2011 Moriah Jean

Everyone knows I need an adventure;
God knows I needed a storm.
Inspired by the "storm of the century."
Moriah Jean Jan 2011
To feel like my ribcage cannot contain
the tremendous racket that is my
heartbeat.

With flung venom and sharp fangs,
You berate me, endlessly.
And I cower.
Dig my fingernails into my palms until they bleed.
It doesn't stop the tears from burning my iris' black
(the boys I'll turn to someday for validation
will tell me that they're beautiful.
And I'll stay in bed with them all day,
Never bothering to mention why I'm so tired).

But right now,
My scars are open wounds,
And you've made a game out of pouring salt onto them.

The pain is so profound, it will stay with me
For years.
But you'll belittle that too.
Until, everytime I lose control,
I think of you.

It's no wonder I don't know what innocence is anymore.
© January 21st, 2011 Moriah Jean

For my mother, and my love of psychology.
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